Your little review of John Ashbery
that didn't appear in the Tuesday
paper. Wasn't a secret code meant only
for me: No poet has a longer finger
or more extensive menagerie than
I googled you and him together
jealous as a twin and a lover
but pooling your minds proved
luckily difficult the flex of his dream
and the female curve of your rationale
remained unhelixed. What's chipped
away at by hard rains of words is not us:
you are a solenoid that must be kept dry
he is an eighty-something yank
his carpal grasp on the keys
to a ruined castle that I handed over
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